


So Close

by babbleking



Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest V
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, F/F, Lesbian Debora, Other, Unhappy Ending, brief mention of non-con sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 05:53:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8434165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babbleking/pseuds/babbleking
Summary: There was a reason she had rejected all those suitors.





	

There was a reason she had rejected all those suitors.

Many chalked it up to her being picky, or just a “bitch”, if they were so inclined.  She didn’t care.  It was easier than the truth. 

Debora had been interested in women for as long as she could remember.  She had even had a brief fling with her neighbor in Mostroferrato before they were found out.  Mr. Briscoletti was never told.  Eirika’s father had always been afraid of him, so he and his daughter simply moved away.  It hurt, but Debora was used to it.  There was no chance for love when you were from a noble family, especially for a lesbian.

Yet, still, she rejected the suitors.  She didn’t know exactly why; she claimed it was because they were only interested in her body. However, it was clear she still hoped for love, and somewhere deep inside she knew that.

Then he came. 

Debora had objected to the contest from the start.  Nera was an adult; she could choose her own husband.  Orientation aside, Debora had always been a firm believer in letting women make their own decisions, but in a world such as theirs that was near impossible.

He came back with both rings, and a pretty blonde.  She was from a humble family, and clearly harbored feelings for the man, but something about her struck a chord in Debora.  She was _real_ , and Debora admired that.  She more than admired that.  For the first time in years, Debora had a crush.

So, when he chose her, something inside of Debora lurched.  Why _her_?  She had only suggested herself to protect her sister; she hadn’t expected anything to come of it.  The blonde--Bianca, it was--seemed a little disappointed, but she graciously helped Debora prepare for the wedding.  They talked a little--small talk, nothing serious--and Debora’s feelings only grew.

When he kissed her at the alter, she gave up.  It was no use searching for something that didn’t exist.  Besides, she was _married_ , soon she’d have to worry about kids and--oh, Goddess.  She didn’t want to think about it.

That night was the worst night of her life.

Being pregnant was surreal for Debora.  It was something she knew she’d have to do, but it still felt _wrong_ somehow.  The children were beautiful, however, and Debora vowed she’d take care of them and make sure they never knew they came from a loveless marriage. 

Of course, taking care of your children is complicated when you get turned into a stone statue.

One day, he took them back.  Not to Mostroferrato, but to Bianca’s hometown.  Something about being there brought back feelings long buried, and Debora had to keep herself from crying.  She had gotten quite good at that, over the years.

She was married now.  He was a simple-looking man; a farmer, nothing more.  Against her better judgement, Debora thought to herself, _I could have done better.  I could have given you everything._

She mentioned something about being adopted.  Debora wasn’t listening.  Instead, she was focusing on Bianca--her hair, her eyes, her lips, all as beautiful as the day they had met.  Tears were forming in her eyes.  She knew it, and she tried to wipe them away, but her husband noticed.   _For once_ , she couldn’t help but think.

He pulled her aside.

“Debora, are you okay?” he asked.  Goddess, if only he were a woman.  “Is it about Bianca?  I told you before and I’ll tell you again, there’s nothing between us.”

“That’s not it,” said Debora.  She could have told him.  She had come so close many times before, but she was the Queen of Gotha now.  She couldn’t be selfish anymore.

“Debora…” he said, realization dawning in his eyes.  “You don’t--you’re not--”  She could see the puzzle pieces fitting together in his mind--her coldness, her distance, her refusal to get physical.

“I think she’s my sister,” she blurted.  It was a lie.  The adoption thing was just a coincidence, and she knew it.  But he bought it, and they returned home with a simple casting of Zoom.

That night, Debora cried herself to sleep.  All those years of building up a shell, cracked by a pair of sweet blue eyes.  Now she had the rest of her life to pretend, pretend harder than she had ever had to before. 

And she had gotten so close, too.  That was the worst part.  She had been so close to telling him, to stop living a lie.

 _Debora Briscoletti, Queen of Gotha, a lesbian.  Think of what the people would say._  They were not _her_ people; they never would be, but they were the only thing keeping her from running away.  Though, in a way, she had already been running her entire life.

That night, she made up her mind.  From then on, she poured herself into Gothan politics.  She sat with the townspeople, listened to their concerns, and did everything she could to help.  It was an endless cycle, but soon she forgot the pretty blonde who had nearly caused her to crack.

One day, a girl showed up at the throne room.  She was young and well-dressed, a Debora of years past.

“I’m sorry to come to you like this,” she said, head bowed.  “My father keeps trying to marry me off to these horrid men, and I--I can’t do it!  I know this has nothing to do with you, but I’m at my wit’s end here!  Please, I beg of you!”

Debora got up from her throne and placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder.  She whispered something gently into her ear, something her husband couldn’t hear.

Once the day’s activities were over, Debora wrote a strongly worded letter to the girl’s father.

After all, there was a reason she had rejected all those suitors.


End file.
